Fallen Angel -- Chapters 11 & 12
Apr. 3rd, 2006 07:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaTitle: Fallen Angel
Pairing: Angel/Wesley
Rating: NC-17 (with the sex)
Setting: Part way through season 3, alternate universe type of thing (wherein I would take a different road than Joss...because last I checked, I wasn't Joss....)
Disclaimer: If wishes came true, Angel and Wesley would live in my closet, and I would play with them mightily...but alas...they do not
Feedback: gladly accepted...
Summary: Wesley works to understand what the spell did, and how to fix it, while he and Angel are isolated in the office. Blood leads to sex...and the revelation that Wesley plans to call in magical assistance, in the form of Willow. These things combined set Angel off on a memory...and reasoning out his feelings for Wesley.
Click here for chapters 1 & 2
Click here for chapters 3 & 4
Click here for chapters 5 & 6
Click here for chapters 7 & 8
Click here for chapters 9 & 10
Chapter 11
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was not a man who admitted defeat easily, but the longer he worked the more he realized he was in well over his head. The text of the original scroll was difficult to translate, except for the bits he had already known. The spell he had constructed from those bits was pretty straightforward, at least at first blush.
Fourteen hours he had sat in his office pouring over the materials and he was only just beginning to have a notion what his spell had actually done. Angel was back to pacing around the hallway outside the door, never actually passing the open doorway, but Wesley could feel him.
At least he was moving now, without help. He had been afraid that the incident at the hotel would set his recovery back, but Angel seemed to finally be on the road to returning to himself. Wesley sat back, dropping his glasses on the desk and rubbing at his eyes. His stomach rumbled and he stole a glance at the clock.
As if in echo, Wesley got an overwhelming sense of hunger from Angel as he neared the door. Wesley smiled. “Angel.”
Angel’s head peered into the room and Wesley beckoned him in. “You must be famished. You haven’t fed since we left the apartment.”
Angel looked at the floor, unwilling to admit his need. “I’m okay, Wesley. You don’t need to—“
Wesley was across the floor and in front of Angel, putting one finger over his lips to silence him. “I never needed to Angel. I chose to.”
He kissed Angel lightly, drawing him into the room and over to the low leather couch. He sat and Angel came with him. Wesley kissed him again, a little more deeply this time, his hands inviting Angel’s out to play, moving them up over Wesley’s chest, before Angel took the lead, circling around to Wesley’s back and pulling him close. Wesley relaxed into him, sliding one leg up over Angel’s until he was effectively straddling Angel’s lap.
Finally breaking their kiss, Wesley looked into Angel’s eyes. Even without the inexplicable emotional connection between them he would be able to see the uncertainty, the desire, the fear that danced in them. “I trust you,” he whispered, barely mouthing the words. He felt the break in Angel’s resistance, a sinking of his fear. Despite everything they had been through together Wesley did, in fact, trust Angel with his life.
Slowly, deliberately, Wesley removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the skin along his collar bone and neck. In his fantasies, when he’d allowed the indulgence, this was how it happened, first he’d offered his neck to Angel as a show of trust and affection. Then there was touching, groping…Wesley guided Angel forward with one hand.
His first touch made Wesley shudder, soft lips against tender skin, just over the pulsing rush of blood that Wesley offered him. Several long kisses…just a touch of tongue. Wesley’s face flushed, unleashing the craving in him for this intimacy. His desire filled the room, pulling Angel in. Wesley felt the transformation, the soft lips replaced by sharp teeth, the smooth cheek gone tough against his. “Wesley.” Angel hissed through his fangs.
Wesley pressed himself closer to Angel, his hardening cock brushing against Angel’s in response. There was a long pause, then the tiniest sting as Angel’s teeth sank into him. Wesley’s eyes fluttered shut, his hands loosening as he fell into the ocean of fire that passed between them.
The only thing more intimate than that moment was the next, as Angel’s hands pushed his shirt from him, fumbling a little with a slow button, his movement urgent but not rushed. He drank slowly, like a kiss, deep and sensual, even as his hands pressed against the heat of Wesley’s skin.
Wesley moaned as those hands found the spot on his back that made him weak and Angel’s mouth moved from his neck to trail kisses along his collarbone, leaving slight tracks of blood to mark his way. His second bite, in the graceful curve of Wesley’s neck was enough to make Wesley come, his body shuddering in Angel’s arms. “Angel.”
Angel pushed them forward, off the couch onto the floor. His hands moved down over Wesley’s hips, cupping his ass, then back around to the zipper. His mouth slipped away from Wesley’s neck and Wesley whimpered. It took a moment of delicate maneuvering, but Angel managed to remove Wesley’s primly pressed pants and pull his own down. Wesley was still semi-erect, his desire plainly written on his face. Angel kissed him, his teeth catching slightly on Wesley’s lip before he let the vampire face fade and deepened his kiss.
Angel moved so he was between Wesley’s legs and bent to kiss down his neck to the still oozing wound. “Want,” he whispered before his tongue dipped down into the wound and his cock slid into place at the opening of Wesley’s ass. Wesley moved his head in a gesture of offering, pushing his neck closer to Angel’s mouth, and moved his ass in a way that let Angel slip inside of him.
As Angel moved slowly into him, he bent back to the wound. Wesley could feel the slow pull of blood out of him, the slow push of Angel into him and his eyes fluttered closed. This was familiar, intimate and familiar. Angel kept his movements slow. Wesley could feel him holding the fear at bay, fighting a memory of using Wesley’s affection and desire against him, breaking Wesley body and spirit before turning Wesley, Wesley could see it all, behind the sensations as his body rode toward another climax, as Angel neared his own.
Wesley slid hands up Angel’s chest, around to his back. He had stopped drinking, his face resting on Wesley’s shoulder as he fucked him. “Angel…” Welling up within his orgasm Wesley felt love, anguish, guilt, and Angel’s own rush of orgasm, emotions that seemed to multiply and intensify as they played back and forth between the two of them and their bodies moved together. Angel cried out first, throwing back his head as he came and Wesley followed, his body clenching tight before he melted into the floor.
Angel’s tears didn’t surprise Wesley when he sat up, but his own did. He reached out to touch Angel’s face, wiping at his cheek. “There now, we’re both just fine.”
Angel smiled and wiped Wesley’s cheek in response. “Maybe.”
Wesley chuckled. “I’m proud of you. No flashbacks.”
Angel looked away, clearly struggling with memories surfacing. “It’s not easy.”
Wesley held his hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it. “No, I know it isn’t.”
“It’s very real.”
Wesley nodded. “I know, I’ve seen.” His own experience was still vivid in his mind. “I haven’t seen all of it, so I can’t know…but Angel-“ It was Angel’s turn to stop him with a kiss, soft and tasting vaguely of blood.
“I know Wes, I know.”
Wesley sat back and nodded. “Then perhaps you’re ready for the next step.” Angel looked at him with confusion. “I’m hopelessly out of my reach with this scroll. I need to call in reinforcements.”
“Willow.” Angel said it hollowly, and sank onto himself a little.
“Willow.” Wesley agreed, searching Angel’s face. It meant more than just Willow, though Wesley had seen a little of what Angel had done to her in his false memory. With Willow came all the baggage of Sunnydale. They hadn’t discussed it yet. Buffy’s death had shocked all of them, and Willow had been the one to bring the news to Angel.
It had been the last blow in a battle Angel hadn’t even been aware he was fighting. By the time that news came that she had returned from the dead, Angel was gone. Wesley looked away sharply, realizing he hadn’t yet told Angel.
“Before I call her, we should talk about—“
“Buffy.” Angel’s voice was soft, hurt.
“Yes.” Wesley touched his face and tried to get him to look up. “She’s alive, Angel.”
Angel, met his eyes briefly. His own burned with hope and fear at the same time. “How?” He got to his feet, pulling his pants back into place and pacing away. “I mean, I am right in remembering that she was dead.”
Wesley nodded slowly. “Yes. She was. She sacrificed herself to save the world.”
“Back to my first question. How?”
“Willow.”
“Wow.” Angel walked around the office, his thoughts scattered, his emotions jumping from one extreme to another, even as Wesley reached for his own pants and pulled them on.
“Yes, she’s become quite a powerful witch. She had a brush with evil after the death of Tara, but she’s better now, at least that’s what I understand from Giles.”
“Giles.” Angel stopped his pacing and turned toward Wesley. “Giles. Is he—No…He’s fine, right?”
Wesley found his shirt and started putting it on. “Last I spoke with him he was. That was…last month, I think. Why?”
Angel shook his head. “I was…cruel…to him.” His eyes were closed and Wesley could sense the memory playing out behind them. It was partly true, brought out of the memory of Angelus when the love between Buffy and Angel had led to that moment of perfect bliss, and then embellished.
Wesley crossed the room and took Angel’s hands, kissing the large palms to draw Angel’s attention back to him. “That was a long time ago, and it wasn’t you…it was Angelus.”
“Call Willow.” Angel paced away and out into the hallway, leaving Wesley alone in an office that seemed far too quiet suddenly.
Angel could taste her, feel her blood coursing through his body, filling him with the strength that only a slayer’s blood could provide. Her body hung lightly in his arms, surrendered to his lust, to his greed. She wasn’t dead yet, but she would be soon. She had come when he called her, because he had said he needed her.
He decided to send her body back to her beloved Watcher, the only other man she had ever really belonged to. Maybe as the start of his next move. As he remembered, Giles was interesting to torture.
His eyes moved to the dark blue ones staring at him from the closet. Wesley wasn’t really seeing, so dazed by his loss of blood and the endless atrocities Angel had subjected him to that he was only nominally conscious, but Angel like his eyes open and pointed at him while rocked his body against Buffy’s. He looked so lost without his glasses and suit, his body marked with bite marks and
bruises.
“Cheer up, Wesley. You’ll get your turn soon enough.”
Buffy’s eyes opened, pleading with him. “Angel,” she whispered. He licked his lips.
“There now, it will all be over soon.” There was the smallest hint of an Irish brogue in the words as he leaned in for the kill. When he raised his face again, Buffy was dead, and he had found a new inspiration. He dropped her lifeless body to the floor and went to Wesley’s side. “Imagine his surprise when he opens his mail and finds a Slayer Vampire in it.” Angel said, pointing at Buffy. Her blood burned inside of him. He wanted more. For the moment however, she was dead. He’d have to act fast if he was to get her to Giles before that changed.
Angel shook off the memory as he paced. As much as he knew it wasn’t real he could taste her in his mouth. It brought a cascade of other images, faces of those he had loved, and killed. Buffy had been the beginning. He had taken Wesley to Sunnydale and watched as Buffy woke, and Willow had barely escaped her…only to run into Angel.
He was stronger now than he had been, but he was no more than a pawn to Naan’s manipulation, as the incident at the hotel had shown. Wesley was so much stronger than Angel had ever imagined…what Wesley had been through, what Angel had in reality done to him…it seemed unbelievable that he should still trust Angel, much less love him.
For his part, Angel had been aware that Wesley had strong feelings for him, and that they weren’t all employer-employee feelings, or even the kind of feelings between friends. His own affection for the bookish Englishman had been originally based on his expertise, his ability to translate demon languages, and his eagerness to please. It had grown into a friendship that had outlived a reversion into Angelus because of a drug, and who knows how many bad moments, bad decisions and threatening apocalypses.
It had taken Naan’s dissection of his memory for him to recognize his attraction for Wesley though, and his treatment of Wesley in the fantasy she induced had cemented the feeling. Even now, when he was repulsed by everything he had thought he had done, those moments with Wesley, when he had drank from him, forced him into submission and fucked him hard, those images still stirred him, aroused him.
He had held it at bay while he was with Wesley, but only barely. In his false memory he hadn’t held back, he had used every ounce of desire and the strength of his unnatural body to hurt Wesley for the crime of loving him…and when Wesley was broken, bleeding and as close to death as Angel could take him without killing him, Angel had offered him the opportunity to turn. At first he had thought Wesley would refuse, but in his warped sense of truth, Wesley loved him so much he would follow him past hell and into the life of the very monsters he had spent a lifetime fighting.
Angel stopped pacing. Wesley had hung up the phone. It was done. Willow would be there the next day. Wesley emerged from the office, his books and the scroll neatly bundled under his arm. “We should probably get back to the apartment, relieve Fred and Gunn.”
Angel nodded tightly, shuttering up the memories and trying to find a smile for Wesley. Wesley deserved that. Wesley saw through it though, and moved to kiss Angel. “It will be okay,” he whispered, putting his free hand around Angel and pulling him close. “I promise.”
Angel shivered, feeling Wesley’s presence wrap around him like a comforting quilt on a cold winter’s night. He let it cover him, buffer him from the pain. It felt inviting and warm, safe. He hadn’t felt safe in a long time.
Chapter 12
The small apartment was crowded, yet silent. Willow Rosenburg sat on the floor in the living room with Wesley’s books and tried to ignore the eyes watching her. The far corner crackled with the energy it was taking to contain the one sister and that pressed into her concentration as well.
She hadn’t expected an audience while she worked, but neither had she expected Angel’s condition or the way he freaked out when he saw her, or the way he came unglued at the sight of Buffy with her. It unnerved her. She’d seen Angel in a lot of ways before, but this was…She shook her head and forced her attention back to the scroll in her hands. Focus.
Buffy Summers didn’t like to be told what to do. That hadn’t changed any with the dying and coming back to life. If anything, it was worse. So, being told she couldn’t see Angel didn’t sit well with her. She was pacing. The afternoon was warm. She walked up and down the balcony outside Wesley’s front door while he stood watching her. At least out here she wouldn’t disturb Willow.
“I only came because Willow said he was hurt.” Buffy said for the fifth or sixth time as she stopped in front of Wesley. “I need to see him.”
“And he needs to see you. Just not right now. He needs time.”
“For what?!” She was exasperated, waving her arms at him.
“If you’re ready to hear, I’ll tell you…but it won’t be easy.” Wesley unfolded his arms. He could feel Angel moving around inside, his emotions trembling between utter panic and forced rationality.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“Are you?” Wesley cocked his head, trying to determine if she really was ready to hear this.
“Wesley, I don’t have time for this. The hellmouth is waking up. I have a houseful of potential slayers who feel vulnerable and helpless and I’ve left them with Dawn and Xander and, god help me, Andrew and Spike, so I could come here and make sure that Angel is safe…so if you have something to say, say it.”
“Very well. It begins with a spell.”
“Doesn’t it always?”
Wesley smiled and steered her to the wrought iron bench. “This time, it was the Watcher’s Council’s use of the spell.”
For the next hour, Wesley filled her in on the events that had lead to his phone call to Sunnyvale. He spared her nothing, detailing Angel’s physical and mental condition when he’d found him, the venture into Angel’s subconscious, everything except the physical relationship that had developed between Wesley and the vampire. That was something he knew she wasn’t ready for.
“Has your father left for England yet?” She asked after he told her about his involvement.
“Yes, yesterday.” She exhaled slowly and it made him nervous. “Why?”
“We got word that the council was hit, hard. We haven’t heard from Giles, we don’t know who is alive and who isn’t. If your father was still traveling yesterday, he’s probably safe.”
“Hit by whom?” Wesley asked, suddenly more nervous than he had been.
Buffy stood and resumed her pacing. “Agents of the First. They’re seeking out potential slayers and killing them. Giles has been bringing them to me to protect, but…its not good.”
“Oh dear.” Wesley stood and wiped his hands on his pants. “I had presumed that the council was referring to this business with Naan. It never occurred to me that it could be something…bigger.”
“They were getting desperate, and still couldn’t play it straight.” Buffy shook her head. “I should check in with Xander, see how things are at home.” She took her cell phone out of a pocket and Wesley nodded.
“I’ll check on our progress inside.”
Wesley’s first thought was of Angel, who had been a quivering ball of non-responsive vampire when he had left him in the bedroom. He had prepared for Willow, but not Buffy. Wesley had felt the shock, fear, anguish engulf him and had only managed to get to his side before he crumpled. He nodded at Gunn and Fred as he passed into the living room. His eyes found Anna’s for reassurance that they were fine before he moved into the bedroom.
The room was dark, the way Angel preferred it. He wasn’t in the bed, or the familiar corner. He was in the room, Wesley could feel him. “Angel.” He said it softly, scarcely a whisper, and still felt Angel jump. He was in the dark corner nearest the closet.
Wesley crossed to him gently, holding out his hand for Angel to come to him. A long moment passed in which he didn’t think Angel would come, then he felt the cool fingers slowly grasping his. They moved to the bed and Wesley wrapped his arms around his friend, his lover.
“Angel, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
”I know.” Wesley could feel him trying to find his strength and it made him smile. “I’m sorry. I kept seeing her…what I did to her…She-she—“
Angel shuddered against Wesley. “She’s fine, and she understands. She won’t barge in on you again. She’ll wait for you.” Wesley’s nimble fingers caressed Angel’s face. It was cool to the touch, damp with tears. “Are you hungry?”
Angel shook his head and sat up. “I couldn’t…not right now.” He crossed his arms, which pulled the loose shirt tight over his chest, showing how thin he really was. It still made Wesley uneasy, the sight of the once powerful vampire wasted away. “How is…Willow doing?”
Wesley smiled and stood. “I don’t know. I should check in on her. You rest.”
Angel nodded, though he didn’t show any signs of actually laying down. Wesley closed the door behind him, and found the eyes of nearly everyone in the room on him. “He’s resting,” he said finally, after a long silence. Buffy, by the door, looked relieved and sank down into the chair nearest her.
Wesley moved to squat beside Willow. “Any luck?”
“Some.” She shifted uncomfortably. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“It never is.” Wesley sighed. He was tired, and it was beginning to show.
“In order to re-bind them, we have to completely sever the connection they have now.” Willow said, leaning back to stretch her neck.
“We can’t, we’ll have no control over Naan.”
“I know. I said it wouldn’t be easy.”
Wesley looked over to the three sisters. Behind their protective barrier they couldn’t hear much of what the others said, but Anna’s eyes were on him. “Then what?”
“Big magic, bind them together…if we’re lucky.” She held up the scroll. “This spell is incredible. We can’t duplicate it, not exactly. Some of the things they used no longer exist. The talisman was one of a kind…nothing we have today is strong enough to hold all three.”
“So what do you suggest?”
Willow’s eyes sparkled with knowledge and an excitement Wesley himself had once known when working on mystical problems that stretched his knowledge. “We bind them into one person, into Anan. She is the glue that holds them together.”
“And then what?”
“One thing at a time, Wesley. We eliminate the threat first.”
Wesley nodded. “Do you have everything you need?”
She shook her head. “Not even close. I have a list.” She handed a piece of paper to Wesley.
His eyes skimmed the list, mentally picking out the shops and contacts needed to fill the list. “Gunn, you and Fred go get this stuff. You should be able to get most of it nearby. The rest you’ll need to go to Garish’s place. He should be able to point you in the right direction.”
“Got it.” Gunn helped Fred up off the couch and reached for the list. “Any special instructions?” he asked Willow who was getting up from the floor.
“Yeah, don’t let the herbs mix, or you’ll have a really big mess. And, make sure you get a Philean’s crystal, not any other kind. It should have a blue-ish center.”
“Got it. Be back as fast as we can.”
Wesley nodded absently, then rose to collapse onto the couch where Gunn and Fred had been. Willow looked at him with concern, and stepped closer. “You okay, Wesley?”
“Just tired, I’m afraid. I haven’t slept much since finding Angel.”
“Buffy and I can keep an eye on things, if you want to sleep.”
“Thank you, Willow. I may just do that.” He lay down on the couch. “You might want to try talking to Anna, to explain what you’re going to do.”
“I will.” She smiled for him, a pretty smile that tried to convey confidence and joy, but Wesley saw through it to her fear…not just for the spell, but for herself and her ability to handle the magic. He smiled back, hoping it helped. Then his eyes slid closed and he slept.
Willow stood, uncertain now that it was essentially just her and Buffy. “Now what?” Buffy asked, meeting her in the middle of the room.
“We wait.” Willow shook her head.
“Are you worried?”
She nodded. She didn’t trust herself to say what she was feeling, just turned away, looking at Anna who was watching them from inside the energy barrier. Buffy didn’t need the words, and wrapped her arms around her friend. “I believe in you,” she whispered. It was just enough to chase the tears away. Willow squeezed her hand in thanks, then stepped away to start the preparations and talk to Anna.
Buffy busied herself with cleaning up the stacks of books and parchment, trying not to keep looking at the bedroom door. It seemed so quiet. It reminded her how Angel used to be able to sneak up on her, even when no one else could. She missed that strength, knowing he was there, ready to catch her. Despite everything, if he were gone, her world was empty. Being this close and not able to talk to him, touch him…was maddening…even if their last words had been angry ones,…even if there were someone else in her life….Angel would always be a part of her.
“Buffy?”
It was almost inaudible, but her head turned. Angel leaned against the doorway. He wouldn’t look at her. She stood. One step, two…then she stopped. “Angel?”
His head turned toward her, but she couldn’t see his eyes. Maybe they were closed. She tried another step. He flinched, but didn’t leave the door. Another step, and she was within arm’s reach. “Angel?” she tried again. She was close enough now for a better look. What she saw shook her.
He held to the door jamb with one hand, and it seemed the only thing that was holding him upright. His shirt hung off of him, where once it would have draped perfectly over arm and chest muscles. His face was gaunt and white, except the dark shadows under his eyes and in his cheeks. Closing her eyes, Buffy stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him and laying her cheek on his chest. After a moment, she felt his arms wrap around her too.
Slowly, he lowered his head until it was on her shoulder, and she could feel great sobs shaking him. Her eyes found Willow’s, then she slowly maneuvered Angel back into the room, closing the door so that they could be alone.
For a long time, Angel simply clung to her, crying silently into her shoulder. Buffy let him, holding him and feeling small and weak. Angel was her strength, and she felt strangely alone. Slowly he let go of her, moved away. He sank onto the bed and avoided looking at her. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m trying to—Wesley told you?”
“A little.” She was going to sit beside him, but saw him stiffen and chose the floor in front of him instead. “I know that you think you killed us.”
“If I had only killed you.” Angel whispered, shaking his head. “I can see it every time I close my eyes. I know it isn’t real, but some part of me…I didn’t just kill, Buffy.”
She set one hand on his knee, trying to find a way past the fear. This was not her strong suit. She wasn’t sure what to say or do. “I wasn’t Angelus. I was me, and I chose to do things…I think its worse because I actually did some of them. I tortured Wesley…I—“
He touched her hand where it rested on his leg. “Before she took me, I tortured Wesley, threatened Cordelia. I slept with Darla. Must have made it easier for her. She made me believe—“
“Wait, you slept with Darla?” Buffy pulled her hand away and stood up. “How is that even possible?”
Angel looked up at her. “Wolfram and Hart, brought her back.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I know.” Angel hung his head while she paced. “I told you, I—I—Wesley says it was some sort of spell.”
Buffy turned to look at him, her eyes squinting. “Where is she now?”
“Dead. Wesley says she sacrificed herself.”
“Wait, we’re talking about Darla here, right?”
“I think it’s a long story. I don’t have all the details. I only know what Wes has said about Connor.”
“Who’s Connor?”
“My son.” Angel closed his eyes and shook his head. “It makes no sense, I know that. But Wesley says—“
“Son? Vampires don’t have sons.” Buffy was back in front of him, her eyes searching for his. “I die for a little while and the whole world goes wacky.”
He winced and reached for her hand. “You were dead, when I went away.” Her skin was warm and he held it to his face. “You were dead, and I was alone…until Wesley—found me.” He was quiet, his eyes closed as he listened the blood rushing through the veins in her wrist. “In the delusion you weren’t dead. After I killed Fred and Gunn and Cordelia, I called you, asked you to come here. I made Wesley watch as I—turned you…and we watched you kill Dawn…together we tortured Giles and Willow…” His voice choked and he stopped for a long moment. “You begged me to…die…before I…”
Buffy stared down at him, her mind conjuring images to match his words. Her stomach twisted around inside her. His tears made it worse. He moved until his head was against her stomach, his arms sliding around to hold her as if it held him in the room. Her hands seemed to move of their own accord, rising to sooth his hair. “It never happened, Angel. I’m here, Willow is here.”
He stifled a sob and held her tighter. “Just stay with me for a while,” he said, his words slightly muffled. “I need to feel you.”
Buffy kissed the top of his head and he looked up. He seemed so lost, so…broken. She kissed him, softly at first, then with more urgency. He clutched at her, pulling her into him as he kissed her back. She could feel his need for touch, as if each warm finger on his skin brought redemption.
Wesley pretended to sleep, but he could feel Angel’s anguish and the comfort he derived from Buffy’s touch, her kiss. It hurt to know that she could still make Angel feel…Wesley knew she would, could…but to feel it like this…He turned to face the back of the couch, turning his back to the bedroom door, to the emotions he could feel wafting off Angel.
Buffy would always be a part of Angel, Wesley had accepted that long before he and Angel had ever, well before they had ever even entertained the idea of being together. Still, he felt a small swell of satisfaction when the bedroom door opened and Buffy emerged. Angel paced behind the wall, Wesley could feel him. He was stronger for having talked to Buffy, and stronger was good. Buffy, on the other hand seemed shaken.
“I’m gonna get some air,” he heard her say to Willow, then she was gone out the front door. Wesley felt Angel reach out for him, and let his thoughts caress him gently before he settled into the sleep he so desperately needed.
Click here for Chapters 13 & 14 (final chapter)
Pairing: Angel/Wesley
Rating: NC-17 (with the sex)
Setting: Part way through season 3, alternate universe type of thing (wherein I would take a different road than Joss...because last I checked, I wasn't Joss....)
Disclaimer: If wishes came true, Angel and Wesley would live in my closet, and I would play with them mightily...but alas...they do not
Feedback: gladly accepted...
Summary: Wesley works to understand what the spell did, and how to fix it, while he and Angel are isolated in the office. Blood leads to sex...and the revelation that Wesley plans to call in magical assistance, in the form of Willow. These things combined set Angel off on a memory...and reasoning out his feelings for Wesley.
Click here for chapters 1 & 2
Click here for chapters 3 & 4
Click here for chapters 5 & 6
Click here for chapters 7 & 8
Click here for chapters 9 & 10
Chapter 11
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was not a man who admitted defeat easily, but the longer he worked the more he realized he was in well over his head. The text of the original scroll was difficult to translate, except for the bits he had already known. The spell he had constructed from those bits was pretty straightforward, at least at first blush.
Fourteen hours he had sat in his office pouring over the materials and he was only just beginning to have a notion what his spell had actually done. Angel was back to pacing around the hallway outside the door, never actually passing the open doorway, but Wesley could feel him.
At least he was moving now, without help. He had been afraid that the incident at the hotel would set his recovery back, but Angel seemed to finally be on the road to returning to himself. Wesley sat back, dropping his glasses on the desk and rubbing at his eyes. His stomach rumbled and he stole a glance at the clock.
As if in echo, Wesley got an overwhelming sense of hunger from Angel as he neared the door. Wesley smiled. “Angel.”
Angel’s head peered into the room and Wesley beckoned him in. “You must be famished. You haven’t fed since we left the apartment.”
Angel looked at the floor, unwilling to admit his need. “I’m okay, Wesley. You don’t need to—“
Wesley was across the floor and in front of Angel, putting one finger over his lips to silence him. “I never needed to Angel. I chose to.”
He kissed Angel lightly, drawing him into the room and over to the low leather couch. He sat and Angel came with him. Wesley kissed him again, a little more deeply this time, his hands inviting Angel’s out to play, moving them up over Wesley’s chest, before Angel took the lead, circling around to Wesley’s back and pulling him close. Wesley relaxed into him, sliding one leg up over Angel’s until he was effectively straddling Angel’s lap.
Finally breaking their kiss, Wesley looked into Angel’s eyes. Even without the inexplicable emotional connection between them he would be able to see the uncertainty, the desire, the fear that danced in them. “I trust you,” he whispered, barely mouthing the words. He felt the break in Angel’s resistance, a sinking of his fear. Despite everything they had been through together Wesley did, in fact, trust Angel with his life.
Slowly, deliberately, Wesley removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the skin along his collar bone and neck. In his fantasies, when he’d allowed the indulgence, this was how it happened, first he’d offered his neck to Angel as a show of trust and affection. Then there was touching, groping…Wesley guided Angel forward with one hand.
His first touch made Wesley shudder, soft lips against tender skin, just over the pulsing rush of blood that Wesley offered him. Several long kisses…just a touch of tongue. Wesley’s face flushed, unleashing the craving in him for this intimacy. His desire filled the room, pulling Angel in. Wesley felt the transformation, the soft lips replaced by sharp teeth, the smooth cheek gone tough against his. “Wesley.” Angel hissed through his fangs.
Wesley pressed himself closer to Angel, his hardening cock brushing against Angel’s in response. There was a long pause, then the tiniest sting as Angel’s teeth sank into him. Wesley’s eyes fluttered shut, his hands loosening as he fell into the ocean of fire that passed between them.
The only thing more intimate than that moment was the next, as Angel’s hands pushed his shirt from him, fumbling a little with a slow button, his movement urgent but not rushed. He drank slowly, like a kiss, deep and sensual, even as his hands pressed against the heat of Wesley’s skin.
Wesley moaned as those hands found the spot on his back that made him weak and Angel’s mouth moved from his neck to trail kisses along his collarbone, leaving slight tracks of blood to mark his way. His second bite, in the graceful curve of Wesley’s neck was enough to make Wesley come, his body shuddering in Angel’s arms. “Angel.”
Angel pushed them forward, off the couch onto the floor. His hands moved down over Wesley’s hips, cupping his ass, then back around to the zipper. His mouth slipped away from Wesley’s neck and Wesley whimpered. It took a moment of delicate maneuvering, but Angel managed to remove Wesley’s primly pressed pants and pull his own down. Wesley was still semi-erect, his desire plainly written on his face. Angel kissed him, his teeth catching slightly on Wesley’s lip before he let the vampire face fade and deepened his kiss.
Angel moved so he was between Wesley’s legs and bent to kiss down his neck to the still oozing wound. “Want,” he whispered before his tongue dipped down into the wound and his cock slid into place at the opening of Wesley’s ass. Wesley moved his head in a gesture of offering, pushing his neck closer to Angel’s mouth, and moved his ass in a way that let Angel slip inside of him.
As Angel moved slowly into him, he bent back to the wound. Wesley could feel the slow pull of blood out of him, the slow push of Angel into him and his eyes fluttered closed. This was familiar, intimate and familiar. Angel kept his movements slow. Wesley could feel him holding the fear at bay, fighting a memory of using Wesley’s affection and desire against him, breaking Wesley body and spirit before turning Wesley, Wesley could see it all, behind the sensations as his body rode toward another climax, as Angel neared his own.
Wesley slid hands up Angel’s chest, around to his back. He had stopped drinking, his face resting on Wesley’s shoulder as he fucked him. “Angel…” Welling up within his orgasm Wesley felt love, anguish, guilt, and Angel’s own rush of orgasm, emotions that seemed to multiply and intensify as they played back and forth between the two of them and their bodies moved together. Angel cried out first, throwing back his head as he came and Wesley followed, his body clenching tight before he melted into the floor.
Angel’s tears didn’t surprise Wesley when he sat up, but his own did. He reached out to touch Angel’s face, wiping at his cheek. “There now, we’re both just fine.”
Angel smiled and wiped Wesley’s cheek in response. “Maybe.”
Wesley chuckled. “I’m proud of you. No flashbacks.”
Angel looked away, clearly struggling with memories surfacing. “It’s not easy.”
Wesley held his hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it. “No, I know it isn’t.”
“It’s very real.”
Wesley nodded. “I know, I’ve seen.” His own experience was still vivid in his mind. “I haven’t seen all of it, so I can’t know…but Angel-“ It was Angel’s turn to stop him with a kiss, soft and tasting vaguely of blood.
“I know Wes, I know.”
Wesley sat back and nodded. “Then perhaps you’re ready for the next step.” Angel looked at him with confusion. “I’m hopelessly out of my reach with this scroll. I need to call in reinforcements.”
“Willow.” Angel said it hollowly, and sank onto himself a little.
“Willow.” Wesley agreed, searching Angel’s face. It meant more than just Willow, though Wesley had seen a little of what Angel had done to her in his false memory. With Willow came all the baggage of Sunnydale. They hadn’t discussed it yet. Buffy’s death had shocked all of them, and Willow had been the one to bring the news to Angel.
It had been the last blow in a battle Angel hadn’t even been aware he was fighting. By the time that news came that she had returned from the dead, Angel was gone. Wesley looked away sharply, realizing he hadn’t yet told Angel.
“Before I call her, we should talk about—“
“Buffy.” Angel’s voice was soft, hurt.
“Yes.” Wesley touched his face and tried to get him to look up. “She’s alive, Angel.”
Angel, met his eyes briefly. His own burned with hope and fear at the same time. “How?” He got to his feet, pulling his pants back into place and pacing away. “I mean, I am right in remembering that she was dead.”
Wesley nodded slowly. “Yes. She was. She sacrificed herself to save the world.”
“Back to my first question. How?”
“Willow.”
“Wow.” Angel walked around the office, his thoughts scattered, his emotions jumping from one extreme to another, even as Wesley reached for his own pants and pulled them on.
“Yes, she’s become quite a powerful witch. She had a brush with evil after the death of Tara, but she’s better now, at least that’s what I understand from Giles.”
“Giles.” Angel stopped his pacing and turned toward Wesley. “Giles. Is he—No…He’s fine, right?”
Wesley found his shirt and started putting it on. “Last I spoke with him he was. That was…last month, I think. Why?”
Angel shook his head. “I was…cruel…to him.” His eyes were closed and Wesley could sense the memory playing out behind them. It was partly true, brought out of the memory of Angelus when the love between Buffy and Angel had led to that moment of perfect bliss, and then embellished.
Wesley crossed the room and took Angel’s hands, kissing the large palms to draw Angel’s attention back to him. “That was a long time ago, and it wasn’t you…it was Angelus.”
“Call Willow.” Angel paced away and out into the hallway, leaving Wesley alone in an office that seemed far too quiet suddenly.
Angel could taste her, feel her blood coursing through his body, filling him with the strength that only a slayer’s blood could provide. Her body hung lightly in his arms, surrendered to his lust, to his greed. She wasn’t dead yet, but she would be soon. She had come when he called her, because he had said he needed her.
He decided to send her body back to her beloved Watcher, the only other man she had ever really belonged to. Maybe as the start of his next move. As he remembered, Giles was interesting to torture.
His eyes moved to the dark blue ones staring at him from the closet. Wesley wasn’t really seeing, so dazed by his loss of blood and the endless atrocities Angel had subjected him to that he was only nominally conscious, but Angel like his eyes open and pointed at him while rocked his body against Buffy’s. He looked so lost without his glasses and suit, his body marked with bite marks and
bruises.
“Cheer up, Wesley. You’ll get your turn soon enough.”
Buffy’s eyes opened, pleading with him. “Angel,” she whispered. He licked his lips.
“There now, it will all be over soon.” There was the smallest hint of an Irish brogue in the words as he leaned in for the kill. When he raised his face again, Buffy was dead, and he had found a new inspiration. He dropped her lifeless body to the floor and went to Wesley’s side. “Imagine his surprise when he opens his mail and finds a Slayer Vampire in it.” Angel said, pointing at Buffy. Her blood burned inside of him. He wanted more. For the moment however, she was dead. He’d have to act fast if he was to get her to Giles before that changed.
Angel shook off the memory as he paced. As much as he knew it wasn’t real he could taste her in his mouth. It brought a cascade of other images, faces of those he had loved, and killed. Buffy had been the beginning. He had taken Wesley to Sunnydale and watched as Buffy woke, and Willow had barely escaped her…only to run into Angel.
He was stronger now than he had been, but he was no more than a pawn to Naan’s manipulation, as the incident at the hotel had shown. Wesley was so much stronger than Angel had ever imagined…what Wesley had been through, what Angel had in reality done to him…it seemed unbelievable that he should still trust Angel, much less love him.
For his part, Angel had been aware that Wesley had strong feelings for him, and that they weren’t all employer-employee feelings, or even the kind of feelings between friends. His own affection for the bookish Englishman had been originally based on his expertise, his ability to translate demon languages, and his eagerness to please. It had grown into a friendship that had outlived a reversion into Angelus because of a drug, and who knows how many bad moments, bad decisions and threatening apocalypses.
It had taken Naan’s dissection of his memory for him to recognize his attraction for Wesley though, and his treatment of Wesley in the fantasy she induced had cemented the feeling. Even now, when he was repulsed by everything he had thought he had done, those moments with Wesley, when he had drank from him, forced him into submission and fucked him hard, those images still stirred him, aroused him.
He had held it at bay while he was with Wesley, but only barely. In his false memory he hadn’t held back, he had used every ounce of desire and the strength of his unnatural body to hurt Wesley for the crime of loving him…and when Wesley was broken, bleeding and as close to death as Angel could take him without killing him, Angel had offered him the opportunity to turn. At first he had thought Wesley would refuse, but in his warped sense of truth, Wesley loved him so much he would follow him past hell and into the life of the very monsters he had spent a lifetime fighting.
Angel stopped pacing. Wesley had hung up the phone. It was done. Willow would be there the next day. Wesley emerged from the office, his books and the scroll neatly bundled under his arm. “We should probably get back to the apartment, relieve Fred and Gunn.”
Angel nodded tightly, shuttering up the memories and trying to find a smile for Wesley. Wesley deserved that. Wesley saw through it though, and moved to kiss Angel. “It will be okay,” he whispered, putting his free hand around Angel and pulling him close. “I promise.”
Angel shivered, feeling Wesley’s presence wrap around him like a comforting quilt on a cold winter’s night. He let it cover him, buffer him from the pain. It felt inviting and warm, safe. He hadn’t felt safe in a long time.
Chapter 12
The small apartment was crowded, yet silent. Willow Rosenburg sat on the floor in the living room with Wesley’s books and tried to ignore the eyes watching her. The far corner crackled with the energy it was taking to contain the one sister and that pressed into her concentration as well.
She hadn’t expected an audience while she worked, but neither had she expected Angel’s condition or the way he freaked out when he saw her, or the way he came unglued at the sight of Buffy with her. It unnerved her. She’d seen Angel in a lot of ways before, but this was…She shook her head and forced her attention back to the scroll in her hands. Focus.
Buffy Summers didn’t like to be told what to do. That hadn’t changed any with the dying and coming back to life. If anything, it was worse. So, being told she couldn’t see Angel didn’t sit well with her. She was pacing. The afternoon was warm. She walked up and down the balcony outside Wesley’s front door while he stood watching her. At least out here she wouldn’t disturb Willow.
“I only came because Willow said he was hurt.” Buffy said for the fifth or sixth time as she stopped in front of Wesley. “I need to see him.”
“And he needs to see you. Just not right now. He needs time.”
“For what?!” She was exasperated, waving her arms at him.
“If you’re ready to hear, I’ll tell you…but it won’t be easy.” Wesley unfolded his arms. He could feel Angel moving around inside, his emotions trembling between utter panic and forced rationality.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“Are you?” Wesley cocked his head, trying to determine if she really was ready to hear this.
“Wesley, I don’t have time for this. The hellmouth is waking up. I have a houseful of potential slayers who feel vulnerable and helpless and I’ve left them with Dawn and Xander and, god help me, Andrew and Spike, so I could come here and make sure that Angel is safe…so if you have something to say, say it.”
“Very well. It begins with a spell.”
“Doesn’t it always?”
Wesley smiled and steered her to the wrought iron bench. “This time, it was the Watcher’s Council’s use of the spell.”
For the next hour, Wesley filled her in on the events that had lead to his phone call to Sunnyvale. He spared her nothing, detailing Angel’s physical and mental condition when he’d found him, the venture into Angel’s subconscious, everything except the physical relationship that had developed between Wesley and the vampire. That was something he knew she wasn’t ready for.
“Has your father left for England yet?” She asked after he told her about his involvement.
“Yes, yesterday.” She exhaled slowly and it made him nervous. “Why?”
“We got word that the council was hit, hard. We haven’t heard from Giles, we don’t know who is alive and who isn’t. If your father was still traveling yesterday, he’s probably safe.”
“Hit by whom?” Wesley asked, suddenly more nervous than he had been.
Buffy stood and resumed her pacing. “Agents of the First. They’re seeking out potential slayers and killing them. Giles has been bringing them to me to protect, but…its not good.”
“Oh dear.” Wesley stood and wiped his hands on his pants. “I had presumed that the council was referring to this business with Naan. It never occurred to me that it could be something…bigger.”
“They were getting desperate, and still couldn’t play it straight.” Buffy shook her head. “I should check in with Xander, see how things are at home.” She took her cell phone out of a pocket and Wesley nodded.
“I’ll check on our progress inside.”
Wesley’s first thought was of Angel, who had been a quivering ball of non-responsive vampire when he had left him in the bedroom. He had prepared for Willow, but not Buffy. Wesley had felt the shock, fear, anguish engulf him and had only managed to get to his side before he crumpled. He nodded at Gunn and Fred as he passed into the living room. His eyes found Anna’s for reassurance that they were fine before he moved into the bedroom.
The room was dark, the way Angel preferred it. He wasn’t in the bed, or the familiar corner. He was in the room, Wesley could feel him. “Angel.” He said it softly, scarcely a whisper, and still felt Angel jump. He was in the dark corner nearest the closet.
Wesley crossed to him gently, holding out his hand for Angel to come to him. A long moment passed in which he didn’t think Angel would come, then he felt the cool fingers slowly grasping his. They moved to the bed and Wesley wrapped his arms around his friend, his lover.
“Angel, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
”I know.” Wesley could feel him trying to find his strength and it made him smile. “I’m sorry. I kept seeing her…what I did to her…She-she—“
Angel shuddered against Wesley. “She’s fine, and she understands. She won’t barge in on you again. She’ll wait for you.” Wesley’s nimble fingers caressed Angel’s face. It was cool to the touch, damp with tears. “Are you hungry?”
Angel shook his head and sat up. “I couldn’t…not right now.” He crossed his arms, which pulled the loose shirt tight over his chest, showing how thin he really was. It still made Wesley uneasy, the sight of the once powerful vampire wasted away. “How is…Willow doing?”
Wesley smiled and stood. “I don’t know. I should check in on her. You rest.”
Angel nodded, though he didn’t show any signs of actually laying down. Wesley closed the door behind him, and found the eyes of nearly everyone in the room on him. “He’s resting,” he said finally, after a long silence. Buffy, by the door, looked relieved and sank down into the chair nearest her.
Wesley moved to squat beside Willow. “Any luck?”
“Some.” She shifted uncomfortably. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“It never is.” Wesley sighed. He was tired, and it was beginning to show.
“In order to re-bind them, we have to completely sever the connection they have now.” Willow said, leaning back to stretch her neck.
“We can’t, we’ll have no control over Naan.”
“I know. I said it wouldn’t be easy.”
Wesley looked over to the three sisters. Behind their protective barrier they couldn’t hear much of what the others said, but Anna’s eyes were on him. “Then what?”
“Big magic, bind them together…if we’re lucky.” She held up the scroll. “This spell is incredible. We can’t duplicate it, not exactly. Some of the things they used no longer exist. The talisman was one of a kind…nothing we have today is strong enough to hold all three.”
“So what do you suggest?”
Willow’s eyes sparkled with knowledge and an excitement Wesley himself had once known when working on mystical problems that stretched his knowledge. “We bind them into one person, into Anan. She is the glue that holds them together.”
“And then what?”
“One thing at a time, Wesley. We eliminate the threat first.”
Wesley nodded. “Do you have everything you need?”
She shook her head. “Not even close. I have a list.” She handed a piece of paper to Wesley.
His eyes skimmed the list, mentally picking out the shops and contacts needed to fill the list. “Gunn, you and Fred go get this stuff. You should be able to get most of it nearby. The rest you’ll need to go to Garish’s place. He should be able to point you in the right direction.”
“Got it.” Gunn helped Fred up off the couch and reached for the list. “Any special instructions?” he asked Willow who was getting up from the floor.
“Yeah, don’t let the herbs mix, or you’ll have a really big mess. And, make sure you get a Philean’s crystal, not any other kind. It should have a blue-ish center.”
“Got it. Be back as fast as we can.”
Wesley nodded absently, then rose to collapse onto the couch where Gunn and Fred had been. Willow looked at him with concern, and stepped closer. “You okay, Wesley?”
“Just tired, I’m afraid. I haven’t slept much since finding Angel.”
“Buffy and I can keep an eye on things, if you want to sleep.”
“Thank you, Willow. I may just do that.” He lay down on the couch. “You might want to try talking to Anna, to explain what you’re going to do.”
“I will.” She smiled for him, a pretty smile that tried to convey confidence and joy, but Wesley saw through it to her fear…not just for the spell, but for herself and her ability to handle the magic. He smiled back, hoping it helped. Then his eyes slid closed and he slept.
Willow stood, uncertain now that it was essentially just her and Buffy. “Now what?” Buffy asked, meeting her in the middle of the room.
“We wait.” Willow shook her head.
“Are you worried?”
She nodded. She didn’t trust herself to say what she was feeling, just turned away, looking at Anna who was watching them from inside the energy barrier. Buffy didn’t need the words, and wrapped her arms around her friend. “I believe in you,” she whispered. It was just enough to chase the tears away. Willow squeezed her hand in thanks, then stepped away to start the preparations and talk to Anna.
Buffy busied herself with cleaning up the stacks of books and parchment, trying not to keep looking at the bedroom door. It seemed so quiet. It reminded her how Angel used to be able to sneak up on her, even when no one else could. She missed that strength, knowing he was there, ready to catch her. Despite everything, if he were gone, her world was empty. Being this close and not able to talk to him, touch him…was maddening…even if their last words had been angry ones,…even if there were someone else in her life….Angel would always be a part of her.
“Buffy?”
It was almost inaudible, but her head turned. Angel leaned against the doorway. He wouldn’t look at her. She stood. One step, two…then she stopped. “Angel?”
His head turned toward her, but she couldn’t see his eyes. Maybe they were closed. She tried another step. He flinched, but didn’t leave the door. Another step, and she was within arm’s reach. “Angel?” she tried again. She was close enough now for a better look. What she saw shook her.
He held to the door jamb with one hand, and it seemed the only thing that was holding him upright. His shirt hung off of him, where once it would have draped perfectly over arm and chest muscles. His face was gaunt and white, except the dark shadows under his eyes and in his cheeks. Closing her eyes, Buffy stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him and laying her cheek on his chest. After a moment, she felt his arms wrap around her too.
Slowly, he lowered his head until it was on her shoulder, and she could feel great sobs shaking him. Her eyes found Willow’s, then she slowly maneuvered Angel back into the room, closing the door so that they could be alone.
For a long time, Angel simply clung to her, crying silently into her shoulder. Buffy let him, holding him and feeling small and weak. Angel was her strength, and she felt strangely alone. Slowly he let go of her, moved away. He sank onto the bed and avoided looking at her. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m trying to—Wesley told you?”
“A little.” She was going to sit beside him, but saw him stiffen and chose the floor in front of him instead. “I know that you think you killed us.”
“If I had only killed you.” Angel whispered, shaking his head. “I can see it every time I close my eyes. I know it isn’t real, but some part of me…I didn’t just kill, Buffy.”
She set one hand on his knee, trying to find a way past the fear. This was not her strong suit. She wasn’t sure what to say or do. “I wasn’t Angelus. I was me, and I chose to do things…I think its worse because I actually did some of them. I tortured Wesley…I—“
He touched her hand where it rested on his leg. “Before she took me, I tortured Wesley, threatened Cordelia. I slept with Darla. Must have made it easier for her. She made me believe—“
“Wait, you slept with Darla?” Buffy pulled her hand away and stood up. “How is that even possible?”
Angel looked up at her. “Wolfram and Hart, brought her back.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I know.” Angel hung his head while she paced. “I told you, I—I—Wesley says it was some sort of spell.”
Buffy turned to look at him, her eyes squinting. “Where is she now?”
“Dead. Wesley says she sacrificed herself.”
“Wait, we’re talking about Darla here, right?”
“I think it’s a long story. I don’t have all the details. I only know what Wes has said about Connor.”
“Who’s Connor?”
“My son.” Angel closed his eyes and shook his head. “It makes no sense, I know that. But Wesley says—“
“Son? Vampires don’t have sons.” Buffy was back in front of him, her eyes searching for his. “I die for a little while and the whole world goes wacky.”
He winced and reached for her hand. “You were dead, when I went away.” Her skin was warm and he held it to his face. “You were dead, and I was alone…until Wesley—found me.” He was quiet, his eyes closed as he listened the blood rushing through the veins in her wrist. “In the delusion you weren’t dead. After I killed Fred and Gunn and Cordelia, I called you, asked you to come here. I made Wesley watch as I—turned you…and we watched you kill Dawn…together we tortured Giles and Willow…” His voice choked and he stopped for a long moment. “You begged me to…die…before I…”
Buffy stared down at him, her mind conjuring images to match his words. Her stomach twisted around inside her. His tears made it worse. He moved until his head was against her stomach, his arms sliding around to hold her as if it held him in the room. Her hands seemed to move of their own accord, rising to sooth his hair. “It never happened, Angel. I’m here, Willow is here.”
He stifled a sob and held her tighter. “Just stay with me for a while,” he said, his words slightly muffled. “I need to feel you.”
Buffy kissed the top of his head and he looked up. He seemed so lost, so…broken. She kissed him, softly at first, then with more urgency. He clutched at her, pulling her into him as he kissed her back. She could feel his need for touch, as if each warm finger on his skin brought redemption.
Wesley pretended to sleep, but he could feel Angel’s anguish and the comfort he derived from Buffy’s touch, her kiss. It hurt to know that she could still make Angel feel…Wesley knew she would, could…but to feel it like this…He turned to face the back of the couch, turning his back to the bedroom door, to the emotions he could feel wafting off Angel.
Buffy would always be a part of Angel, Wesley had accepted that long before he and Angel had ever, well before they had ever even entertained the idea of being together. Still, he felt a small swell of satisfaction when the bedroom door opened and Buffy emerged. Angel paced behind the wall, Wesley could feel him. He was stronger for having talked to Buffy, and stronger was good. Buffy, on the other hand seemed shaken.
“I’m gonna get some air,” he heard her say to Willow, then she was gone out the front door. Wesley felt Angel reach out for him, and let his thoughts caress him gently before he settled into the sleep he so desperately needed.
Click here for Chapters 13 & 14 (final chapter)
